Birthday
by Evil Angel 215
Summary: A rare moment of insight to what goes inside the Master Chiefs head
1. Chapter 1

**This is set between Halo 1 and 2 and my knowledge of the Halo storyline isn't great so I apologise if I get anything wrong **

Master Chief walked down the corridor of some cruiser, mentally and physically drained after a long battle with the covenant on planet who he couldn't remember the name of yet he had risked his life for it all the same. Cortana was on the bridge discussing tactics with the captain but she was reluctant to do so as she wanted to talk to him about something. Instead he was walking down this corridor looking at the faces of the passing marines. It was always the same look; it was always a mixture of respect, awe and always a little a fear, he never understood the fear, what was there to fear, He was the protector of humanity, he watched his fellow Spartans die all around him and they dared to fear him their own guardian angel.

He arrived at the armoury and sighed behind his helmet, at least here people treated him like he was a person not just a weapon to pointed and aimed. The armourers knew him here, some of them he would class as friends who actually respected him for the person he was not the weapon he was trained. He walked in and noticed smiles he got from many of the staff as they helped him out of the armour asking if was ok and if he wanted any modifications to his armour, he never really went past a nod but then again they never expected more than that.

Then it was over the brief glow of friendship was over as he had to leave to get some sleep and something to eat and face the fear of the marines. He entered the cold sterile corridor thankful that most of the marines were sleeping by now, by choice or order he didn't care as long as they stopped staring at him. He made to the mess and noticed the Sgt Johnson was waiting for him, it was their routine, Johnson would wait for him as he got the amour off and then they would enjoy a meal in quiet companionship, until now. Sgt Johnson had a cake in front of him, not any cake but a cake with chocolate icing and numerous candles; this was trouble any change in the routine meant that something was on Sgt Johnsons mind or worse he wanted to _talk ._ Chief sat down and eyed the cake with a hostile glance and then gave the Sgt a question glance.

"Happy birthday." John sighed, Cortana was behind this; she was the only one who actually _knew_ his birthday and had the will to celebrate it. So he just gave the Sgt a look and looked as the Sgt's arms raise up in the universal sign of surrender.

"Not my idea Chief blame Cortana but keep the cake otherwise she'll be royally pissed." John just picked up the plate with the cake on it and walked to his quarters carrying the cake hoping he didn't walk into anyone he knew .Or didn't know for that matter. He entered his quarters and sat down on the bed and waited for Cortana to finish her discussion with captain, so he could find about this cake and this birthday business. He didn't wait long as Cortana's avatar appeared in his room with the usual ever so mysterious smile on her face which shrank a bit as she looked at the definitely uneaten cake.

"Why?" all he asked straight to the point as always. Cortana just sat down beside John and just whispered. "Because you remembered mine."


	2. Remember

**Set as a sort of Prologue to my first Chapter. **

He remembered. He remembered a world torn by war, he remembered battlefields strewn with the dead and the dying, shouts and screams filled the air like a brutal orchestra playing to the beat of the artillery. He remembered fighting there as well, among the enemy like an angel of death, shooting until the barrel of his rifle glowed red and when that ran out of ammo it became a club, after it was too broken to be a weapon it was discarded and replaced. He repeated this process until even he was exhausted as his ammo supply, but he still fought with fists, knees and almost every part of his anatomy. Then it stopped, the shooting, the screaming and the deadly beat of the artillery and was left was a silence. It was foreign, never before had they heard something so beautiful, they stood there together, the officers and the grunts standing together some where even hugging each other in relief. And standing all alone in the midst of it was figure clad in green armour, not a single movement and not a sound came from under his helmet. Then he spoke.

"This is SPARTEN- 117 requesting extracting."

"Request granted." The figure seemed to sag a little before he recovered and returned to be as stiff as an iron rod. Soon the silence was penetrated with a tremendous roar of engines as craft of all shape and sizes flew over a hill blotting out the dying remains of a plasma fire. Some of the craft landed while others circled above, keeping watch for any enemy aircraft the figure walked into one of the nearest Pelicans that landed near him yet above all the noise of the engines and the now loose lips of the soldiers you couldn't hear a sound from him. He sat down on the bench and stared at the floor paying no attention to the people around him just staring at the floor.

It was ten minutes before the Pelican reached the base and landed, nobody batted an eyelid at its arrival as it landed, this wasn't the first Pelican that had landed at it wouldn't be the last. He walked out of the Pelican and started to walk towards the largest building there, it wasn't a large building but it still dominated the skyline with its plasma scorched walls. He walked down narrow corridors until he reached a door with two guards standing to attention with the rifles raised high. He passed between them and pushed the door aside entering a room where no one would pay attention to him as to him he was a distraction.

"Master Chief." He turned and looked at the grizzled man that had addressed him.

"Captain."

"I hear you ... lost control in the heat of battle." Master Chief stood a little straighter.

"Won't happen again sir."

"Good. You are dismissed." Master Chief walked out of room and walked past men and woman who looked at him with the same look of awe and fear. He entered his room and saw the date on his calendar. And smiled

Cortana projected herself into his room and found Chief sitting on his bed dressed in his fatigues he was obviously waiting for her. And he was smiling

"What are you smiling about?"

"Happy Birthday." Cortana looked as if she had been slapped.

"I don't have a Birthday."

"You have the day you were created which is good enough for me." Cortana just stared at him.

"I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I but relax we will win this fight."

Two weeks later Reach was glassed.


	3. Faces

He remembered their faces; they were constantly branded into his mind it was like someone had etched their image into his eye and every time he closed it they were there. He could remember all their names Fred, Linda all of them playing together, eating together. Killing together. They were his family, his friends and his memories. One by one they had been killed, torn from his life quicker than he could blink, every time he saw his reflection he saw them and he wished he could be with them. He was alone. But there were other people in his life which he considered his family, people he would risk his life for he loved like brothers and sisters. Yet it wasn't the same. His SPARTANs had been his first family they would be that and no one could replace them.

He walked down the corridor walking past people who feared him as much as they respected him; he stood out like a sore thumb, a giant amongst them he didn't belong. He walked into the armoury and started to put on his armour, there were no technicians today they had been killed in an earlier attack by the covenant, the room was quiet. He sat down and stared at the helmet in his hands and saw his face reflected in the visor, scarred and beaten there was fresh scare running down from his temple to his the corner of mouth, a close encounter with a Energy sword when an Elite came jumping out the shadows. Looking at his helmet he saw not only himself but all the other SPARTANs and then it struck for the first time. He was the last. The grief hit him he could remember there dying screams, there last moments, the times when he held their hands and told them they would make it. They never did.

Cortana had Chief, he was sitting in the armoury, he was staring at his helmet with tears streaming down his face, and she didn't know what to do. Here was the rock of humanity, the supposedly emotionless super soldier crying. It seemed so impossible to imagine that this being could destroy entire Covenant battalions, yet here he was.

"Chief?"She asked hesitantly unsure exactly what to say. "Are you ok?" He turned to her, it was obvious that he had been crying for a long time as entire face was soaked and his eyes were red and puffy and his scars were inflamed.

"I miss them Cortana." Cortana instantly projected herself and moved towards him wishing she could embrace him, she wished she comfort him in any way other than her voice it was frustrating to always be an observer. She could see, hear but never touch it was frustrating, she could do everything a human could dream of yet she was denied one of the most basic human senses.

"Miss who Chief?" She was worried; he had never acted like this before

"I miss my family, they were like brothers and sisters to me Cortana, I grew up with them and yet all I can remember them by is the way I lost them." Cortana didn't now what to do she just stared at him and wondered what she could do.


	4. Weapons

He looked at his helmet, the emotionless mask for which he was recognised for staring back at him, mocking him in a sense. Everyone thought he was emotionless, just another weapon to be pointed and aimed, just another tool. What was worse was the fact people were treating him less and less of a person and treating him more and more of a weapon, not caring on his opinions or his feelings they just pointed him and aimed.

He looked out of the window of the Longsword and stared at the remains of Halo, he had fought there tiring to save the lives on it, only to obliterate them in the blink of an eye , he was supposed to be there savoir yet he turned out to be there killer. The more he thought about the more he started to loath himself, he didn't need to destroy it, yet when Cortana told him to do so he didn't object; he could of asked for an alternative maybe to disable it. But he had gone along with it. Then he realized why, he had wanted to destroy Halo, not to save humanity but because at the time he had wanted to destroy the Covenant shooting them wasn't enough no their deaths had to be so much more , it sickened him to realize he thought like that. He had reason to hate them; but to want their utter destruction, that just wasn't human. What had become.

What was he then, a weapon or a human or was he some sick twisted hybrid of the two a being that enjoyed being aimed and the destruction that followed, something that like to watch his enemies being turned into half rotting corpses by a parasite, Something that enjoyed seeing Covenant being torched by the plasma of their own weapons, or ripping them apart with his own bare hands.

He was a weapon, a human could create. A human could create vast tapestries of art or music so beautiful it could cause the very earth to weep, what could he create other than death and destruction. He couldn't create all he could do was destroy; it always seemed that whatever he touched was either killed or torn apart beyond death. That was all he knew and it suddenly hit him, that was exactly how he was going to be remembered by, he was not going to be remembered for creating something so beautiful it would resonate through the years but for being soaked in the blood of millions. So even if there was an afterlife he still would be haunted by the sentient beings he killed so mercilessly killed, and the families he had destroyed.

He wanted to scream to any god that would listen and demand to know if he was either weapon or human because the sad thing was, he didn't who or what he was.


	5. Murder

Have you ever wondered what makes a solider a solider? Is it his weapon? Or his uniform what separates him from your common murderer. One kills because he believes it is the right thing to do; the other kills because someone else tells him to. What gives him the right? Who has the right to tell someone to kill someone or something else? What makes him so special? One wears uniform the other wears ordinary clothes what exactly is the difference? Does a uniform justify killing someone? If so it would be ok for someone were to dress up and go round shooting people? Because that's the only thing that separates them just a uniform and someone else's orders, does that justify murder of another sentient being?

John was thinking this as he stood in the shower with the mist surrounding him and the smell of terrible aftershave left over from the marines. The water hissing like a snake around his feet as it flowed around his feet. He wished the water would wash away his nightmares and his thoughts. He was tired beyond belief of his dreams and wished they would just go away. He sighed as he turned off the shower and walked towards the towel on the hook, wondering did the UNSC have to put there logo in the towel.

He got dressed in fatigues and walked to his room, passing the looks that the marines gave him as he walked down the corridor, with fear in the eyes and guns in their hands. He punched the button next to the door to his quarters and walked to his bed and sat down. Was he a murder? He had walked through fields of corpses and swam in rivers of blood, he had smelt fear and burnt flesh; was he a murder? A Civilian who had killed as much as him would be locked up and chained to the wall, left to scream his hatred to the air. All that separated him from that was a stupid uniform. Soon a flickering blue light indicated Cortana was here. When she materialized she looked at John as he sat on the bed,

"You ok John?" He looked at her and wished for once that she was real and she could hold him, he wanted to be hugged comforted and Cortana was possibly the only person who would do that.

"I'm a Murder." He whispered and Cortana just stared him.

"No you're not John." She insisted." You're a _Solider_."

"What's the difference?"

Cortana didn't know


	6. Birthday

**Do I have an excuse for not uploading this sooner? No. Just try not to throw anything at me. **

John hated the forerunners. He wished they had never existed, he wished that that the Hals had never been created and most importantly he wished Guilty Spark had never been thought of.

He cradles Johnson's head as one of his oldest and closest friends dies in his hands. This is the man who called him by name instead of by title and remembered to join him in prayer on Remembrance Day. He remembered birthdays, jokes, holidays and all the things in-between that he forgot or didn't think was important anymore. Johnson had help him remember that he was originally human not just this weapon he had become.

He doesn't cry as he picks up his weapon, nor does he scream his grief as he runs with the arbiter out of the forerunner structure. He just lets John go and let the merciless killer that is Master Chief return as he gets into the warthog. He runs down flood forms and fleeing Covenant alive as he drives through flames and the collapsing structures of the new halo.

He simply lets his mind become a series of objectives and logic instead of the normal stream of emotions and stress. He hears Cortana like a distance echo and only briefly acknowledges her advice. He doesn't even show any reaction as flies through the air into the hanger of _Forward unto Dawn _and crashes into the deck.

He barely recognises the Arbiter running to the bridge. He only notices anything when the ships engines send him flying backwards and he has to claw his way back to the terminal so he could hang for dear life. He hears Cortana talking to him but he doesn't really listen he only reassures himself as the ship is engulfed by the energy of Halo.

He has given up caring. He cared for his Spartans and they died or went missing. He cared for Johnsons and now he was dead. He cared of what he would become and now he saw that it was too late to do anything. As soon as he entered that cryo tube as the_ Dawn_ drifted through space John stopped caring about anyone or anything because if he did they would either die or hurt him. So as the door closed John died and Master Chief became truly born.

Cortana monitored him as he slept. Months passed and there was no change. Her hologram did not change position nor did John stir within the pod they both drifted amongst the stars without a purpose. The silence was broken by a subroutine as it bleeped an alarm that Cortana had set up years ago. At first she ignored it but like an itch it persisted.

When she finally terminated the alarm and finally looked as what the subroutines purpose was she laughed. She laughed and laughed until she became hysterical and her hologram flickered and distorted.

It was a notification for John's birthday. She had made it the day after he had celebrated hers. Ever since she had tried to celebrate it with him. The first time she found him crying over the deaths of his SPARTANs. The Second was the day they had escaped from the first Halo. The Third was the day she found wondering whether he was a murderer.

And now he was drifting amongst the stars untouchable and silent.

For the first time in her life she couldn't think of anything she could do. She just sat there laughing hysterically as they both drifted.


End file.
